The jazz record industry may be in shambles, but the music
itself retains remarkable vitality.

Three
particularly alluring new releases, in fact, suggest that the best jazz
artists continue to produce groundbreaking work, despite the crumbling
infrastructure of pre-Internet distribution systems.

Though
listeners have come to expect illuminating results from Patricia Barber,
"Live: A Fortnight in France" (to be released Tuesday, on
Blue Note) represents another significant stride by the innovative Chicago
singer-pianist-songwriter. For in bringing a heightened degree of intimacy
and sonic sheen to a live recording, Barber reveals a deepening ability
to lure listeners into her sonic world.

The extraordinary
level of nuance, subtlety and color of her vocals, in fact, might lead
casual listeners to believe that "A Fortnight in France" is
a studio recording. Strip away the robust applause from obviously rapt
audiences, and Barber seems to be not in France but in your living room,
whispering hauntingly into your ear.

In a way,
Barber has become a virtuoso at exploiting not only the tonal resources
of her alto but also at using a microphone to maximal effect. By directing
her voice this way or that, by caressing the mike at one moment and
withdrawing from it the next, she produces tones, half-tones and shadings
utterly unique to her.

So even
in a well-worn standard such as "Laura," her ability to create
softly ethereal sounds and strangely unexpected turns of phrase practically
remake the tune. The interpretation is so distinctive and unconventional,
yet so mindful of the original contours of the melody, that Barber's
"Laura" has the makings of a potential classic.

And in
"Call Me," another pulpy relic of an earlier age, Barber's
savvy reinvention -- complete with a dreamy introduction that practically
suspends time -- brings into play layers of meaning the tune otherwise
never conveyed. Suddenly, a sexy little tease of a song has something
deeper to say.

During
the past few years, however, Barber has reached beyond merely interpreting
jazz and pop standards, and she reiterates the point with some of the
most erudite jazz songwriting being penned today.

"On
the dark side of passion/comes a taste for revenge," she sings
in "Gotcha," an eerie, interior look at paranoia. "In
the night is there/a rustle just under your bed?"

By the
time Barber has finished intoning her macabre list of things that might
go wrong, the listener doesn't feel quite as safe in his or her skin
again.

Meanwhile,
the withering social commentary she unfurls in "Whiteworld"
proves that at least one of today's major female jazz singers is penning
something besides saccharine love songs, while "Pieces" ranks
among the more shattering poems written on the aftermath of a breakup.

Yet when
sung by Barber and accompanied by her somewhat nervous, spiky jazz piano
-- with sublimely atmospheric contributions from guitarist Neal Alger
and the rest of her band -- even Barber's most barbed comments prove
difficult to resist.